Idol Kakashi
by cretivename000
Summary: Hound of ANBU Entertainment has got it all—looks, talent, diligence, intelligence, drive. He's just a little...strange. Almost everyone he has to interact with for extended periods of time can testify to that. Singer Kakashi AU.
1. Interview

**Me no own Naruto, thank you, please review, enjoy :D**

* * *

**Interview**

The dressing room was quiet except for the steady tapping of a certain silver-haired man's foot on the clean tile floor. Bright white-yellow lights shown, scattered like stars throughout the room, clustered around the multiple mirrors hung up next to the counter.

"I don't want to do this," Kakashi said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Iruka stopped battling with the idol's unruly hair and put down his comb with a defeated sigh. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Kakashi's grip on the arm of his chair tightened. "I don't want to do this," he repeated.

Panicking, Iruka wondered if he should call Kakashi's manager. Sure, he was good with kids, but he had no idea how to handle extremely talented grown men who happened to be famous and supported my millions of fans worldwide.

So, Iruka just sighed and fixed Kakashi's collar. "You'll be alright, Hound. You've—"

"Kakashi. Please call me Kakashi," the man practically begged.

The brunette tensed, surprised, then relaxed when he realized the idol might take it as a bad sign. "Alright, Kakashi," He said soothingly. "You'll be fine. You've done this so many times before." Kakashi looked disbelieving.

"But they talk," Kakashi said, desperately drumming his feet. Iruka picked up the discarded comb and began running it rhythmically through Kakashi's silver hair again, brushing it carefully out of his scarred eye. "They talk to me and they're gonna want me to talk back to them and I really don't like it when they expect me to answer their questions," he ranted.

To say Iruka was surprised would be an understatement. A month ago, Kakashi was an untouchable god who stood above everyone and was afraid of nothing. It never even crossed his mind that the man had social anxiety. "How can someone who performs in front of millions on a regular basis be afraid of an interview with one or two people?"

A reflective beat of silence passed.

"I don't know," Kakashi finally murmured.

Iruka gave up on Kakashi's hair yet again. It didn't seem like any of the previous makeup artists could do anything about it, either. He glanced at the idol in the reflection of the mirror, and handed him a wet cloth to wash his face with. He took it gratefully.

"You have millions of fans, you know." He didn't receive an answer so he continued. "Everyone watching supports you."

Kakashi's eyes appeared above the cloth. "Not everyone," he said dejectedly.

Scoffing, Iruka said, "Anyone who doesn't support you doesn't have to be acknowledged."

Handing him back the cloth, the silver-haired man stared contemplatively at Iruka's reflection in the mirror. "I guess."

"Great!" Iruka grinned. "I'm gonna draw on your face now. Close your eyes."

Kakashi complied. As Iruka worked on him, he saw his face gradually tense up again with anxiety.

"Try to relax." Kakashi opened his mismatched eyes and stared at him through the mirror. "Worrying about it won't help." He didn't get a reply, so he wet his hand with water from a nearby sink and ran it through the front of Kakashi's hair, hoping it'd stay back.

Just then, one of the stage crew knocked on the closed door. "Hound, you're on in three minutes."

Iruka wheeled Kakashi around to face him. He looked him over before exhaling and nodding with approval. He offered him a small smile, which was returned on a micro scale. If you squinted at it sideways.

The brunette watched with interest as Kakashi's demeanor completely changed from unsure to confident as he stood and replied, "Got it."

The stage worker left, and Kakashi's posture slouched in defeat again.

"I don't want to do this, I can't do this, please write me a script or something." He turned to Iruka. "Do you have a script? I've got photographic memory, I can—"

"Hush, Kakashi. Everyone supports you, you'll do great!" Iruka interrupted. He grabbed the taller man by the shoulders and marched him out of the dressing room. "I'll come with your in case you need support. We're all rooting for you!"

He may have imagined it, but Kakashi seemed to relaxed a little.

"Okay," he muttered. "I'll be great. They're not trying to interrogate me," he said, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Right," Iruka agreed, pained that all his hard work was undone with the sweep of a hand. "Your fans are watching you. Do it for them."

Kakashi's eyes hardened with resolve as they arrived at the stage. "Yeah. I'll do it for them." He turned to Iruka and looked him in the eyes. "Thank you."

"N-no problem," the shorter man said, slightly worried by the abrupt mood change.

The idol turned, slapped on a gleaming smile, smoothed some of his still-damp hair over his scarred eye, and strode onto the stage, confidently greeting the hosts, charming and sociable and lovable.

In the shadows of the curtains, Iruka stood there, watching Kakashi chat animatedly with his interviewers, wondering why ANBU Entertainment even told him to bother with the hair in the first place if the idol would just go and do it himself in the end.

He really was like a child, after all.


	2. Recording

**Very obvious, but I don't own Naruto.**

**Thanks for reading, please review and enjoy :D**

* * *

**Recording**

"That was good," Tsunade said. "Great, even. Probably the best take we've had so far." She checked the wordy document clenched in her fist. "Now I want you to scream into the mic."

"...What?"

"You heard me, brat. Scream into the mic."

She received a questioning stare, but she was well-practiced in the art of ignoring people. Reluctantly, Kakashi brought his face to the huge, way-too-expensive microphone in front of him. He took a breath, hesitated, then turned and asked, "Are you sure?"

Tsunade sat back in her chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Yes."

"Any particular pitch or rhythm you have in mind?"

"No. We want your...natural screams," she said, wincing at her own word choice.

Kakashi hesitated some more, then said slowly, "I'm not stalling or anything, but are you absolutely sure you want me to—"

"Kakashi!" A demonic aura surrounded Tsunade and she gritted her teeth into a terrifying smile. "Scream. Into. The. Mic."

Unfazed, Kakashi stared back at her lazily. "Not if you ask like that."

Tsunade sighed. This brat was the only one who was unaffected by her undefeated technique. "Fine. Yes, it's for your MV. Trust me kid, I've been doing this for years."

Kakashi smiled. "See, manners are a good thing." He snapped on his headset, turning back to the microphone. "I'll do as you wish."

Without warning, Kakashi opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and let out the most ear-shattering, blood-curling scream Tsunade had ever heard. Her vision swam, and she swore the air was vibrating from the sheer terror that the silver-haired idol's scream inflicted.

She brought her hands to her headset—God, it was this bad through technologically equivalent earmuffs—and hoped it would end soon. Unfortunately for her, Kakashi was a sadistic little shit who enjoyed the suffering of others.

Tsunade was certain a minute must have passed, but the screams persisted and it seemed like Kakashi had little to no intention of stopping any time soon.

Sometime before they started working together, Tsunade and Kakashi had signed some kind of agreement or contract, saying they would attempt to work as a team and not kill each other, but the former would have ripped it into pieces and burned it if she remembered its existence in times like these.

Finally, Tsunade decided she didn't want to go deaf. Hands shaking, she hastily grabbed the nearest object—a half-full water bottle—and flung it with all the strength she could muster at Kakashi. The scream was cut short as the bottle hit its mark. It took Kakashi's head with it into a nearby music stand, almost knocking it over.

"The hell was that for?!" he snapped, rubbing his head, voice slightly raspy.

"That's what I should be asking you!" Tsunade yelled.

"I just did what you told me to!"

Tsunade grumbled. "Maybe I wasn't too clear. I meant yell. Yell. Yell into the mic."

"They're the same thing," he protested.

Tsunade only glared, and Kakashi looked slightly sheepish. Only slightly.

Arrogance knows no sheep, Tsunade thought.

A returning dull throb in her skull caused the blonde to groan. "My head's hurting again. Just got rid of that hangover, too," she mumbled.

"Any sane person knows not to drink on a weekday," Kakashi quipped.

The blonde glared. "That wasn't for you to hear." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Idiot idols and their freakish hearing," she mumbled.

"Heard that."

"Shut up. Just be thankful this room is soundproof."

Tuning back to her computer, Tsunade clicked her mouse, erasing the recording of Kakashi's screaming. She definitely did _not_ need to hear that again. Ever. She was probably already half deaf, and she needed the other half to do her job.

"We're doing that again," she told a nodding Kakashi. "Yell. Don't scream. Yell." Kakashi nodded again. "And make it short. Don't drag it on like you did that first time. Who the hell even does that?"

For an answer, the man turned back to his microphone. Before he could start, Tsunade stopped him again.

"Actually, stand back from the mic."

Kakashi backed away a step.

"Try a few yards further."

Kakashi complied, a smug grin on his lips, and Tsunade nodded, signaling for him to start. Some days, she wondered why she even bothered with this brat.


	3. Late

**I don't own these characters.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Late**

Hound of ANBU Entertainment was a living legend. He became a trainee by the young age of 15 and debuted only a year after. He rose to fame quickly, giving both himself and ANBU names in the competitive entertainment industry. He was gifted with talent, looks, and (questionably) drive, admired by millions, and the epitome of cool and hip.

And he was late. Three hours late.

Asuma Sarutobi sighed, rubbed his face, and resumed pacing. He had asked for ANBU's best, and had been ecstatic when he received confirmation saying Hound would be there as a model. It was all too good to be true.

Turns out, he was right. Punctuality didn't exist in Hound's world.

Asuma entered and exited the studio for the two-hundred-somethingth time, looking around, scanning the people he saw for a tall figure surrounded by a protective swath of people.

He was unsurprised when Hound did not appear, although his disappointment continued to mount.

Had he just decided not to come? But that stood against the ANBU Code, which said they wouldn't back out of any agreement without advanced notice.

The bearded man rubbed the bridge of his nose and pulled out his mobile. He refreshed his inbox, trying to push away the guilt for yelling at his photography team all morning to make things happen on time.

Karma, he thought, was a bitch.

At last, three hours and a half after the proposed meeting time, Asuma decided he had had enough. He was going to call Hound's manager.

He cursed loudly and nearly punched a wall when he was told that Might Gai was out of the country. However, he was given the phone number of Hound's temporary manager. He dialed, eager for all this to finally end, ready to go home and sleep for the next few years.

The phone rang.

And rang.

Asuma was about ready to break something and end some unfortunate passerby's career when the dial tone clicked to a halt.

"Hello, this is Kisuke Maboroshi," said a tired voice.

"Yes! Thank you!" Asuma shouted. His receptionist shot him a worried look, and he lowered his voice hurriedly. "Sorry. This is Asuma Sarutobi from Sandaime." He heard a sharp intake of breath from the other line. "Are you the temporary manager of Hound?"

"Y-yes," came the shaky reply.

"Great!" Asuma smiled, earlier frustration dissipated. "I'm sure you're aware that Hound from ANBU has a scheduled photoshoot with us today?"

The line was silent as the bearded man waited for a reply.

Then the other man broke out in sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" he cried. "I lost Hound!" Before Asuma could process the words, he rushed, "It wasn't my fault! I mean, yeah, it was my fault, but I couldn't help it! You can't just—it's hard to—I—"

"Hold on, hold on," Asuma cut in, disbelieving. "You lost Hound?"

The idol's temporary manager whimpered. "Yes?" he said quietly, more of a question than an answer.

Another suffocating silence descended. Then, Asuma groaned rather loudly. "How long has he been...lost?"

The other male hesitated. "Uh...four hours or so?"

"What the hell?" he demanded. "How?"

"I—it was—he—" There was an audible sob from the other end of the line. "It was almost time to go so I told Hound to get ready to leave but was practicing and he said he needed some more time, but I knew we'd be late if we waited any longer so I told him no, get in the car, and then he looked at me and the moment I met both of his eyes I was done for!"

He was talking so fast that Asuma was getting tired just listening to him. "Hold—" he began, but was quickly cut off.

"He looked at me and—and he looked so _sad_, the look his eyes made me want to cry and hug him and give him anything and everything he wanted and he only wanted some time so I told him to be ready in five minutes but when I came back he was gone!" he finished hysterically.

The jumble of words took a while to process, but when they did, Asuma was about to hang up, quit his job, and spend the rest of his life underground and away from humanity, but Kisuke hurriedly shouted,

"Wait!"

The bearded man stopped, about to snap.

"I'm only temporary," Kisuke continued, "but I've worked with Kakashi long enough to know that he doesn't back out of his promises."

Asuma sighed. "He was supposed to be here three and a half hours ago," he said flatly.

"He'll turn up, for sure," Kisuke said, and it was the only thing the temporary manager had said confidently in the entire call.

"Fine," said Asuma, just as the doors to Sandaime Photographs slid open. He looked up—

And there stood Hound. Tall, handsome, nonchalant, and unbelievably laid back considering the time in which he was arriving.

"Yo," he said with a cheerful two-fingered salute.

His receptionist fainted, and Asuma stalked up to him, phone forgotten, and punched him _hard_ in the shoulder.

"YOU ARROGANT LITTLE—!"


	4. Cameras

**Me no own Naruto.**

**Enjoy, please review, and thank you :)**

* * *

Konohamaru's knees went weak when Kakashi shot him a smoldering glare. His sharp grey eyes pierced into his own, stabbing through his mind and brutally maiming any of his coherent thoughts.

_I'm straight I'm straight I'm straight,_ he chanted in his head, clinging to the mantra like a lifeline.

Even as he chanted the words into meaninglessness, in some other corner of his short-circuiting brain, he was simultaneously wondering, _But what if I'm not? Am I bisexual? What if I'm Hound-sexual?_

Konohamaru fumbled with the black, oddly-shaped box in his hands and he tried to remember what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

Noting his hesitation, Kakashi raised an eyebrow at him. "If you're not ready, I can leave," the man droned lazily, his perfect posture slouching and his hands drifting down to shove themselves in the pockets of his dress pants.

A crash sounded through the studio as Asuma fell out of his chair from its place in the back of the room. "N-no! We're ready!" he yelped, rushing to the other end and barricading the door with a conveniently placed broomstick.

Returning hastily to the young photographer's side, he bent down and looked into the young man's eyes, shooting desperation and anger like giant glowing laser beams out of his eyes. "I waited _three hours_ for this late prick to get here!" he hissed at a trembling Konohamaru. "Don't." He paused menacingly. "Mess this up."

"R-right," the other male replied shakily. He eyed Kakashi, who had somehow pulled out an orange book and had buried his face into it during their exchange.

"Put. The book. Down," Asuma growled.

Raising his hands defensively, Kakashi tucked the book in one of his back pockets. "Okay, it's away," he said, slowly, as if he was comforting a small child. At Asuma's annoyed gaze, he stated, "Looks like someone's in a bad mood today."

Asuma scoffed. "That's because _someone_," he glared at Kakashi, "decided to show up three hours after the scheduled meeting time, forcing us to push back all our other arrangements, and then _someone_," his glare was redirected to a terrified Konohamaru, "miraculously forgot how to do the only job he's getting paid for." He threw up his hands and yelled, "I'm surrounded by idiots!"

Kakashi sat down and gave Asuma a pained look. "Maa, is that any way to talk to someone who's helping you?"

"You're not helping, you're getting paid too. Shut up and do your job."

Shaking his head slowly, Kakashi turned back to Konohamaru. "Such a harsh creature. He's never gonna get married at this rate. Don't grow up and be as heartless as him, yeah?"

The photographer's eyes went wide at the idol's attention. His cheeks flushed. "Uh—"

"Konohamaru don't even—"

"Can you do that thing you were doing before?" Konohamaru asked abruptly, interrupting Asuma's threat.

Kakashi smiled warmly and stood up, leaning against the studio wall with an amused half-grin on his face.

It was the complete opposite of his look from before, but Konohamaru was willing to take it. Screw the theme of the photoshoot or whatever, he'd take anything at this point. The sooner he got out of here, the better it'd be for his mental and physical health.

He raised the camera, adjusted the lens, and finally snapped a collection of pictures. He breathed out a small sigh, relieved that he wasn't going to get fired, or at least that Asuma hadn't outright said it yet. A few more poses and he'd probably never see the silver haired man again. In person, at least.

Examining the shot, Konohamaru told himself he would never understand photogenic people.

"This turned out great!" he said cheerfully, previous fear forgotten. "Try something different now," Konohamaru told Kakashi, boosted by his own confidence.

That's when Kakashi tilted his chin up and gave the photographer that condescending and arrogant look, and Konohamaru almost dropped his camera.

He spoke too soon and regretted every last one of his life decisions. He was going to get fired, then he was going to crawl into a hole and cry.

He could only hope his pathetic existence became some semblance of an honorable anime character so that he could at least live on as a positive memory.


End file.
